Shades of Gray
by Jet Engine
Summary: Change is coming. The Head Pixie has known this for years, but he didn't know the true implications of those words. Now, he must make sense of his dark visions and growing feelings to learn the truth. Because, in a world of gray, nothing is ever black and white. (One-shot series. Companion to The Anti-Fairies but can be read separate.)
1. Just the Way Things Are

**As stated in the summary, you do not have to read "The Anti-Fairies" to understand this. It would help, but it's not required. If anything in this first part confuses you, don't worry. It'll get explained later on.**

 **Also, it is canon that magical creatures get drunk on sugar. Remember that one scene from the episode "Power Pals"?**

* * *

 **Prelude: Just the Way Things Are**

I remember the night I visited the Head Pixie's dream and told her about her son. She seemed pretty surprised that he would be the next Head, and I didn't blame her for her shock.

Before him, all the Heads had been female.

But, change is coming. Not for tens of thousands of years. But, it's coming.

* * *

"Ross, tell me three things the Head Pixie must never do."

His mother did this sometimes. Quiz him. Expect right answers. Correct him if he was wrong, and he would nod and take a mental note - a physical note, if he had the proper materials on hand - of the right answer. There was never any rhyme or reason to when these little Q-and-A's popped up. It was just whenever his mother felt like asking. Today, he had been in his room, sitting at his little desk and doing his calculus homework, when she'd decided to step into his formerly private domain and quiz him.

Ross Grey hopped out of his chair, straightened his dark gray t-shirt, and adjusted his glasses. "He mustn't befriend other political figures. The relationship must be strictly professional." His mother didn't respond. "He shouldn't fall in love, because that's distracting, and he has to be focused on his duties and his people." Her gray-violet eyes bored into his matching ones, but he didn't flinch. "Finally, he can't show weakness. No crying, no shouting, and no fits of violence unless absolutely necessary. And, if he must do any of those things, it should be in private. Somewhere that no one will see or hear him or around someone he would trust with his own life." He shrugged. "But, that last thing is just societal expectations and applies to all pixies."

His mother nodded her approval. "Well done."

"Mother," he said, as she started out the door. "While I have you, I've been meaning to ask you something." She looked patiently at him. "I know everyone says that the Sister of Grayscale chooses the next Head, but the Heads are always women, right? So, why did She choose me?"

She smiled wistfully. "Ah, who knows why our Goddess does what She does? She's shared Her visions of future events with you, correct?" Ross nodded. "Then, She chose you, my son. Woman or not, there's something about you that She likes, and who are we to question Her motives?"

"I'm not doubting the Goddess." He was doubting _himself_. He was seventeen years old. He'd been having visions since he was two, and his mother had been preparing him since then for the day he'd take her place as the Head Pixie. But, how could he ever fill the role? His mother had been at this for thousands of years. She _knew_ what she was doing. He couldn't possibly lead his fellow pixies half as well as her, and that was _without_ having to interpret Grayscale's visions.

Not that he'd ever say that aloud, of course.

"I know you're not." His mother was oblivious of his anxiety. "You're nervous, are you, son?" Maybe, she wasn't so oblivious. "It's okay. I was, too, and _I_ wasn't the first of my gender to take the reigns. But, that's just the way things are." She frowned in thought then put her hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps it's time I told you a little something. But, this stays between us, alright?" Curiosity peaked, Ross nodded. "When I was pregnant with you, the Goddess appeared in my dream."

"Grayscale spoke to you?" Ross gasped. " _Directly_?" How come She only ever showed _him_ confusing images that didn't make sense until the last minute?

His mother chuckled as his reaction. "I, too, was rather surprised. But, it was Her. There wasn't a doubt in my mind. She told me that my son would be the Head Pixie after me. Honestly, I was a bit confused, seeing as you would be a boy."

"Did She say why She picked me?"

His mother took a moment to consider her words. "She told me that you would be a Head Pixie unlike any other." She patted his cheek. "Now, do your homework. Dinner's in twenty minutes."

She left without another word, leaving Ross more confused than ever. He wanted to question her further, ask why he was special, what else the Goddess had said. But, he knew he wouldn't get a straight answer. His mother seemed to believe that he could figure things out for himself. Nine of ten times, he could.

Now, if only this was one of those nine times.

* * *

Like the some of other magical worlds, Pixie World was close enough to Earth that sometimes harsher weather would carry over from the strange...planet? Was that the word? Sanderson Davis didn't know, nor did the ten-year-old pixie care. He just knew that it was cold. _Really_ cold. There was water falling from the sky. Maybe it was the cause of this bizarre weather? Either way, it was _freezing_ , and Sanderson didn't want anything to do with it. Of course, the shelter wasn't much better. The old building had running water and a decent enough Wi-Fi connection, but a heater? Up until today, there hadn't been a reason to have one, and it wasn't like any of Sanderson's family, biological or otherwise, was capable of pinging one up anytime soon. No one who lived here had magic. Well, none of the adults did. Sanderson had magic, but the out-dated cellphone he'd found didn't project it very well. His sister had magic, but she was only a few weeks old and was pretty much useless in that department. There were no other kids living with them, so it looked like Sanderson would have to freeze his wings off.

He wondered if his mother was okay. She and a few others had gone to work (which, in their case, meant searching for stray food or money or kindly souls who would provide something for them), and Sanderson wasn't keen on them being out in this kind of weather. What if something happened? There were plenty of bad pixies and other creatures who would gladly hurt them. Or, what if Mom got sick? Sanderson had read somewhere that being in the cold for too long could make you ill. Fatally, even. What if Mom got fatally ill from the cold water? What if the water itself was poisonous? They'd already lost Dad. He and his sister couldn't lose Mom, too.

His sister… He should have been watching her instead of staring out the window and daydreaming. "Taylor," he called, floating through the premises. "Sis? Are you playing hide-and-seek without telling me, again?"

He passed Atkins, who was passed out on the floor. Sanderson wanted to wake him, but there was an empty can of cherry Pepsi lying near him. He wasn't waking up any time soon. Atkins wasn't a mean drunk, but he wasn't very helpful either. Mostly, he would ramble until he lost consciousness. And, when he lost consciousness, he didn't regain it for hours. At least sugar was hard for them to get, so he didn't get drunk often. But, _of course_ , the one time Sanderson needed help, the only grownup present was taking a drunken nap. It was kind of strange that his mother would leave him and his sister in Atkins's care. Perhaps, she didn't know he'd been drinking? No, that was usually pretty obvious.

More likely, she trusted Sanderson to look after himself and his sister. Well, that wasn't going very well, apparently.

Was that paper taped to the wall before? Sanderson took a closer look and recognized Taylor's childish handwriting and misspelled words.

 _Im gunna find Mome._

 _Luv, Taylor_

Sanderson spotted the open window nearby, his insides seizing. Goddess above, she _didn't_. How did she even get the window open? He flew for the window and called out his sister's name. No response. She couldn't have gotten far, right? He climbed out the window and shrank back when frigid droplets slammed into his face. Oh, but the weather fine, when Taylor _hadn't_ gone missing. How did humans put up with this? Maybe their skin wasn't as sensitive or something.

Oh, who cares? He needed to find Taylor!

He raced through the sky-water, wishing he was strong enough to fly. He wasn't used to the feel of his still-developing wings being pelted with what felt like tiny shards of glass, and the wind seemed to be trying to force him back inside. Humans must have been made of concrete, if they weren't affected by this stuff. Still, Sanderson pushed through it and ran to find his sister. He called for her every other second, wishing there was at least someone around to help. But other than the homeless and or desperate ones, like his mother and their friends, no one with half a brain would set foot in this crazy weather.

After what was either a few hours or a few minutes of being a soaked, shivering mess, Sanderson spotted something moving across the street. " _Taylor_!" he screamed.

Hugging herself, she turned, her face almost completely blocked by her thick brown hair. Sanderson ran over, not bothering to look both ways, picked her up, and held her tightly as he ran them home as fast as his legs would carry them.

Atkins was still sound asleep, when they returned. Wet, cold, and emotionally drained (turns out sky-water hadn't been the only thing streaking his cheeks), Sanderson walked them to the small bedroom they shared. He sat his shivering and feverish sister on the bed and looked around for something to dry her off with. His old sweatshirt would have to do. He gently rubbed Taylor with it, as she continued avoiding guilty eye contact with him.

"Sis, what were you thinking?" he asked, wrapping the sweatshirt around her small shoulders.

She hugged the material tighter around herself. "Daddy died 'cause he went to get food. I didn't want Mommy to die for the same reason."

Grief over their recently-deceased father resurfaced, and Sanderson's heart broke all over again. "Oh, sweetie." He placed a hand on her flushed cheek. "That was different. Dad died, because the other pixies didn't like how kind he was to us. Not all pixies care about us."

"Daddy did."

"Dad was special. It takes a special pixie to love pixies like us."

"Why?"

Why, indeed. Sanderson never did understand it. Pixies became outcasts from breaking promises. The Goddess, Grayscale, valued loyalty above all else. If a pixie broke a promise or contract, She punished them by removing their wings and magic. But, that didn't mean that the wingless didn't have good reasons for going against their word. Sure, there were those who did so for the wrong reasons, but what about the ones who had genuinely good reasons? Why were they punished? Sanderson and Taylor were born with magic and wings, so did they truly classify as outcasts? Did anyone, really?

Sanderson shrugged and provided the only answer he could think of. "That's just the way things are in Pixie World, Taylor. There's nothing we can do to change it. Now, let's get you to bed. Hopefully, a good night's sleep will help that fever of yours. Oh, and let's just keep this little incident a secret. The adults worry enough as it is, especially Mom."

"Mm'kay," Taylor slurred.

Sanderson tucked her in and, when she started reaching for him, lay down beside her. He wrapped his arm protectively around her, as she pressed her warm face against his still-damp shirt. Their mother came home to find them sleeping in each other's arms.

* * *

I have to say, I've outdone myself.

Person A: a man born wealthy to the Head Pixie and growing up being respected and getting pretty much anything he wanted. A bit on the spoiled side, doesn't like to be told 'no,' but devoted to those he cares about. Whether he'll admit it or not.

Person B: a man born into poverty and growing up with little to zilch. Carefree in nature yet fiercely protective, especially of his baby sister.

A strange combination, but these things tend to happen, when Person A is predetermined to meet up with Person B. That's just the way things are. Everything happens for a reason, and the person who came up with the word 'coincidence' clearly had no idea how fate works.

Whatever. As long as Ross and Sanderson meet, everything will fall into place as it was fated to.

* * *

 **Are you curious? Do you want to read more and find out what the hell is going on? I sure hope so, 'cause I fully plan on continuing this. Review!**

 **Oh, yeah. I also made a list of songs, in no particular order, that fit with what I have planned for this little series. Make of them what you will.**

 ** _Lucy_ \- Skillet**

 ** _Unwanted_ \- Avril Lavigne**

 ** _Look What You Made Me Do_ \- Taylor Swift**

 ** _Not Strong Enough_ \- Apocalyptica**

 ** _Armor_ \- Landon Austin**


	2. First Impressions

**Summary: Sanderson starts working at Pixies Inc. and meets the current Vice President.**

 **I was gonna make this longer but decided against it. I'll introduce some side characters in the next chapter. Not much is happening right now, but there's some character interaction and a little pixie history. I guess that's fun, too.**

 **Another thing, until HP actually becomes the HP, he will be referred to as Ross. That's the name I gave him. I don't know what his canon name is, assuming he has one.**

 **Bonus points to anyone who can catch the Markiplier reference!**

* * *

 **Chapter One: First Impressions**

" _I was an innocent being...then my best friend came along."_

 _\- Unknown_

"You'll never get the job."

Sanderson looked up from the application he'd been filling out on the floor and glanced up at his twelve-year-old sister. "I beg your pardon?"

Taylor plopped down in front of him, the floorboards creaking loudly beneath her. Once again, Sanderson wondered how much longer this building would last. "I said, 'You'll never get the job.'"

Sanderson sat his pen on top of the application and sat up. Goddess, he could have sworn this place in better shape when he was a kid. Maybe, if he got the job, he could afford to get everyone somewhere better to live. Particularly, somewhere that _wasn't_ on the verge of collapsing. "And, what makes you say that?"

Taylor put a finger to her chin in mock-thought. "Well…" She ticked off the reasons on her fingers. "You have no references, no prior experience, no high school diploma-"

"Homeschool counts."

"-you didn't go to college-"

"I went online."

"Yes, paid for with a credit card you 'borrowed' that mysteriously vanished and on a computer that you 'borrowed' from someone who could actually afford one." She smirked. "Remember when that guy caught you and called the police? I still can't believe you got out of there in time."

Sanderson frowned deeply. "Sis, what's your point?"

"My point is that all you'll wind up doing is humiliating yourself. Pixies Inc.? Really, Sanderson? You may have magic, but they'll figure out where you come from. Best case scenario: they toss your application in the trash and never speak of it again."

"Sis, when you're older, you'll realize that sometimes you just have to go for it."

Taylor shrugged and stood up. "I go for things. Just not things that end in embarrassment on my part." She walked to the door, waving dismissively over her shoulder. "Whatever, Sandy." She put her hand on the doorknob and looked at him from over her sunglasses, which seemed difficult, considering that he was sitting and she was standing. "You do you and I'll do me and we won't do each other...probably. Hm. That was a good poem." She turned the knob, and it came out in her hand. She stared at for a moment, then scowled and tossed it aside. She opened the door, which barely managed to stay on its hinges. "Dear Goddess, get me outta this crap hole," she muttered, leaving her brother to his application.

Sanderson huffed and slunk back onto his stomach, returning to the matter at hand. Maybe he wouldn't get the job. Maybe he would. He'd never know, if he didn't try. If nothing else, he could always be a janitor or something. Anything to make some money and find a home that _wasn't_ falling apart at the seams.

* * *

"Why did you hire him?"

Penn Grey didn't break her stride, as she and her son/vice president made their way down the hall, other pixies acknowledging them with brief nods before returning to whatever they were doing. "I beg your pardon?"

"Sanderson Davis. Why did you hire him?"

"Why do you ask?"

Well, for one thing, they were about to meet the guy, and Ross couldn't wrap his head around why Sanderson had gotten the job. And, oh yeah, Ross's mother was making _him_ show the new guy around. "Well, he has no references, no prior experience, no high school diploma-"

"He was homeschooled," Penn corrected as they boarded the elevator.

"Oh. Well, even so, he has no college degree."

"He went online. Perhaps I should have shown you his application." The doors closed, and they descended. "Ross, do you trust me?"

"Yes. But-"

"Then, you'll trust my judgement. You know, this guy is actually pretty close to you in age."

"Oh?" Ross didn't actually care, but a response seemed necessary.

His mother shrugged, giving him a side-glance. "Well, he's twenty-two. A couple thousand years younger than you but close enough. At least, you're no longer the youngest guy working here."

Again, Ross didn't care. But, as the elevator doors opened and they flew out of them, a thought popped into his head and made him want to slap his mother/boss. "Sanderson is twenty-two years old."

"Yes," is what Penn said, but her tone said, 'What's your point?'

"He is barely old enough to drink."

"Yes." Same tone.

Ross pinched the bridge of his nose, as they made their way through the rows of cubicles and down to the lobby. "Mother, I have nothing but respect for you. I want to make that clear. But, twenty-two? No work experience? And, he's working at Pixies Incorporated?"

"Just in the complaints department. If he does a bad job, we can always fire him."

"Or, report him, seeing as we have no proof that he isn't a corporate spy. Or, an axe murderer," he muttered. Penn's mouth quirked up ever so slightly in amusement. "Well. We don't."

"Give him a chance, Ross."

Ross didn't have the chance to respond, because they'd reached the lobby. There were only two other pixies there. One was the secretary, and the other was sitting in the waiting area, nervously kicking his legs. At the sight of him, Ross wanted to bang his own head against the wall. Merciful Goddess, his suit wasn't even ironed! And, was that a stain on the pant-leg? Who came to work looking like they'd dug their clothes out of the trash? And, on the first day, no less? There was also a huge cowlick jutting out of his hairline. How hard would it have been to put some gel on that thing or something? Sanderson stood up from his seat, and Ross finally noticed just how _thin_ the guy was. Seriously. Did this man even eat? Not to mention, he was about a head shorter than Ross, making him seem even tinier. Sure, Ross was tall by pixie standards, but even so...

But, Ross kept his mouth shut. His mother was constantly reminding him not to judge a report by its cover page, but he just couldn't help it sometimes.

Sanderson walked up to them. At least his deadpanned greeting was professional. "Hello again, HP. And, you must be Ross."

Ross simply nodded, but his mother shook the new guy's hand. "Pleasure to see you again, Sanderson. My son will show you to your office. I trust you've already filled out the appropriate paperwork."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I'd love to show you around myself, but I have some paperwork of my own to deal with." Ross raised an eyebrow at his mother. "Ross, if you will."

Ross chose not to acknowledge her lie. "Yes, HP."

She nodded and pinged elsewhere, leaving them alone with Lovell, the secretary who was pretending to not have been listening to a word they'd been saying.

"You call your own mother HP?" Sanderson asked.

Ross got that a lot. He shrugged. "Only in public. Now, I guess I have to show you around. Come with me."

Sanderson followed him through the building. Well, the first floor anyway. That was really all the new guy needed to see. It wasn't like he was getting a promotion anytime soon.

 _Don't judge a report by its cover page, Ross._

Ross forced his mother's words to the back of his mind. He knew she was right. Penn Grey was the kind of person who always seemed to be right about _everything_. Sometimes it was useful, but at times like this, it was kind of annoying.

Whatever. It wasn't like there was a whole lot to see, anyway. Just some gray walls, a couple of cubicles. Most of the actually important stuff happened on the upper floors. The only splashes of color were the portraits of past Head Pixies that hung in the main hallway. Ross couldn't help noticing how intrigued Sanderson was by the portraits, so he clarified, "Head Pixies past."

Sanderson blinked behind his sunglasses. "I'm sorry?"

Ross stopped walking and flicked his wrist in a circle. "These pictures. They're of past Head Pixies."

"Ah." Sanderson continued studying them. "All relatives of yours then?"

"No."

Sanderson stopped looking at the portraits and turned a curious gaze on him. "I heard all of you were related."

"Then, you heard wrong." Ross couldn't count the number of times his mother had been accused of nepotism. "The Goddess blesses one pixie. Not an entire bloodline. From what I've been told, two Head Pixies being related is rarer than female pixies being born." Sanderson let out a low whistle. "Yep. Now, enough about-"

"Is it true that-" Sanderson frowned nervously. "Oh, I interrupted you. Sorry, sir."

Ross fought down his irritation. "It's fine. You had another question. May as well get the Q and A over with while we're standing here."

Sanderson either didn't catch his impatient tone or simply ignored it. "It-It's just that I've heard stories about Head Pixie...Mallory Dahmer? I think that was her name."

Ah, yes. The Head Pixie before Ross's mother. He'd heard stories as well. He shrugged. "You and I have probably heard the same stories. My mother doesn't really talk about her."

"Did your mother really k- Overthrow her?"

He didn't say kill. Smart man. "Yes. But, that's all I know for certain about Mallory. Other than her essentially being a tyrant or something. Are we done here? Or, do you still feel like asking questions you should know the answers to?"

Was that a little grin on the new guy's face? It was gone as fast as it appeared. Maybe Ross had imagined it. "I'm good."

"Okay. Let's get you to your new office, then."

* * *

 **Things should start getting interesting, once we meet the side characters. We'll also be hearing more about Sanderson's and Taylor's living arrangements soon enough. A little something for you to look forward to. Also, I finally made myself a Tumblr profile, so if you have questions, feel free to ask. Review!**


End file.
